


Elizabeth On Mermaid Island

by orphan_account



Category: Peculiar Passions - Vise, Pirates of the Caribbean
Genre: F/F, Female Characters, Female Protagonist, POV Female Character, POV Third Person, Present Tense, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/F, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, Wordcount: Over 1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-05
Updated: 2006-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 07:47:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This will probably confuse everyone who hasn't read <em>Peculiar Passions</em>, which would be most people reading this, I think. To clarify: PP's Elizabeth was a lady who had a maid called Mary (while PotC's Elizabeth also had a maid, who may have been called Mary) and who turned crossdressing pirate for a while and met PP's Jack who is a commoner girl who turned crossdressing pirate and they both moved into Mermaid Island which is a kind of a lesbian paradise, only with field work and huts. I pretty much wrote this just for the sweet sweet confusion.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Elizabeth On Mermaid Island

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably confuse everyone who hasn't read _Peculiar Passions_, which would be most people reading this, I think. To clarify: PP's Elizabeth was a lady who had a maid called Mary (while PotC's Elizabeth also had a maid, who may have been called Mary) and who turned crossdressing pirate for a while and met PP's Jack who is a commoner girl who turned crossdressing pirate and they both moved into Mermaid Island which is a kind of a lesbian paradise, only with field work and huts. I pretty much wrote this just for the sweet sweet confusion.

Elizabeth receives some modest education in things that ladies should know about: the piano, singing, French, a little poetry. She learns more from her father's library.

There are books enough to last a lifetime. She's most drawn to the books on ship-building and sailing, and the few romances her mother left behind, but there are other books – ones little girls shouldn't be reading – that she steals from the library and takes into her bedroom, to read at night, and to fill her head with fascinating images.

Mary knows about them, of course – Mary, her maid, who sleeps with her, not for lack of beds, but because Elizabeth does not want to be alone at night. One night when she is sixteen, and Mary only two years older, Elizabeth reads with a brave, quivering voice the book on unconventional treatments, of the uninvasive titillation of female parts to quell hysteria. Mary's eyes (brown and round and much too innocent for a Port Royal girl) widen as the text goes into specifics.

Elizabeth knew perfectly well they would have to try it.

Mary's fingers carefully, respectfully circling her center raise in her a fit quite unlike hysteria, and a hundred times sweeter.

Elizabeth Swann does not cry. Not the Governor's daughter, not Lizzie the pirate. She does not cry; and yet it's taking all her effort to keep from sobbing as she sits on the long beach, feeling alone and stranded, despite the company.

Not that she is entirely aware of the company. Elizabeth Luther watches her curiously from a cliff above, Jack besides her, an arm around her in the comfortable way they've come to take for granted.

'She's not really... fit to stay here, is she?' says Jack, index finger circling her lover's navel lazily.

Elizabeth Luther smiles, one of those slow ones Jack sometimes thinks of as borderline evil, and whispers in her hair, 'One way to find out, isn't there, love?'

Jack stares at her, daunted – she knows a bit more about the regular sort of women than Elizabeth does, and that sex is not always the appropriate way to comfort someone, but then she's never known her lover not to succeed in a seduction attempt. Furthermore she's not sure Elizabeth would care about violating the complexities of Swann's sorrow. Jack still opens her mouth to protest, but by then Elizabeth is half-way down to the beach. Jack sighs and settles back – on guard among the high grass, in case she needs to intervene.

On the beach, Elizabeth traces Elizabeth's face, lays small comforting kisses on her neck, talks – and Elizabeth flinches in surprise – words fall from her lips, carried away by the wind, and Jack can just hear Elizabeth – her Elizabeth – begin to laugh, merry and incredulous.

Elizabeth kisses Elizabeth full on the lips – Jack can see their mouths fall open, and Elizabeth's body bends in sweet acquiescence. Fingers tangle in hair – long, short – and the sand billows slightly as they fall down, wrapped up in each other.

Jack gets up quietly and walks away. She knows better than to be jealous – for Elizabeth will do what she will do, and by the looks of it, the Swann is going to stay.

'It isn't as if I haven't wanted men,' says Elizabeth over a cup of juice, sweat still clinging on her skin from the field work, in answer to questions barely asked.

Jack is getting jealous, and curses herself for it, and for wishing the Swann would leave – when she's so clearly happier now, perhaps more so than in her previous life. There's an innocent, relieved openness about her that Jack's seen on other new-comers' faces. Nonetheless she should, Jack feels, go straight back to her men and her world and leave Jack's Elizabeth alone.

'I was engaged to a William Turner once,' she continues with a smile that is marred by a touch of pain around her eyes. 'And there was a Jack, too.' She smiles at Jack, and there's an unexpected quiver in Jack's belly.

'I had a husband,' says Jack's Elizabeth with a yawn. 'But he didn't care for me. You'll bed with us, won't you?' she adds, apropos of nothing.

'If... if you have an extra mattress,' says the Swann, almost blushing, and Elizabeth grins wickedly.

'We have a large mattress, my sweet.'

And now the Swann is blushing, and Jack suspects she might be, too, which is ridiculous, but there you have it; and the new-comer's eyes swivel from one of them to the other, and Jack finds that maybe she's not that jealous after all.

Elizabeth Swann does cry after all, but she does it in secret – or thinking it secret, anyway – at night or under the trees, well away from the village. But there's always somebody about, and she isn't fooling anybody. She never talks about her sorrows, and so they don't press her, assuming she will confide in them when and if she finds the time right.

Jack and Elizabeth bed with her, and comfort her in Elizabeth's way almost every night, and the Swann does seem comforted – but some of her is holding back, and while Elizabeth might not see it, Jack does. She follows the the Swann to the beach sometimes, and spies from among the tall grass as she walks up and down the beach, gazing at the horizon as if she's expecting someone.

Maybe she is, and day by day Jack grows more worried.

It's rainy season when the black ship arrives – a black ship with black sails, unkempt and raggedy and sinister – a ship that flies no colours. The women gather on the cliffs above the beach, cannons armed and ready to take the ship out should she be so foolish as to brave the shallows. Elizabeth Swann runs through the women, runs to the water and wades in, waving her arms and hollering for the ship. She's crying openly now.

Jack wades in after her and brings her back to the shore as the black ship sets down a boat. 'I thought I'd lost them,' she says, time and again. She down at Jack with her large, lovely eyes through a double screen of rain and tears. 'But somehow I knew they were going to come for me, all the same.'

Jack pulls the tall girl down to kiss her full on the mouth, to wash away the foul taste of despair. She's going to lose one of her Elizabeths. Perhaps, in a way, she always knew she would.

Elizabeth Luther walks up to them and wraps them both in a hug. Following, the other women gather 'round, and Elizabeth hugs each in turn. And then the boat is there, with men on board, so the women turn their guns to them. Elizabeth wades and then swims to the boat, lifted on by two ragged men, who she embraces as tight and loving as she did the women.

'Would you look at that,' says the Elizabeth beside Jack.

'Do you think those are...?'

'I don't know what she sees in them, really. Oh well, her loss.' Elizabeth stalks off down the shore, and Jack knows she's upset. Jack stays to watch the ship leave, then follows her to their hut.

Elizabeth Luther does not cry.


End file.
